The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3 Page 4

  He glanced down into the pit. It went down about ten feet. Even if it were only two feet deep, none of the children could escape, but ten feet meant that none of their food could escape, either.

  Ten feet was deep enough that in the very, very rare cases that they feasted upon a live human, their meal couldn't climb out.

  There were about two-dozen children down there now, ranging in ages from a few weeks to a few years. No, the newest one was gone. Most likely it had been crushed—there wasn't a lot of room for all of them down there—and then eaten. That happened sometimes. Nature's way.

  They never seemed to grow down there. Even the oldest one was still not much larger than an infant.

  He poured the slick contents of the first bucket into the pit. Some of the children rushed over to gobble it up, but others weren't as mobile, or mobile at all, so he made sure to fling it all around so everybody got their fair share. He did the same with the second bucket. Then he retrieved a third bucket, and tossed the contents down there so that all of the children were splashed with blood.

  The sight of them licking the blood off themselves and each other was truly repugnant and he tried to avoid it. He didn't go so far as to cover his ears to block the chewing and slurping sounds.

  "Goodnight," he said, not looking into the pit. Some of the children were deaf, some had no ears at all, and none, he suspected, could understand him. Still, it was polite to wish them a good night after feeding them.

  He replaced the buckets and left the basement.

  Asher returned to his office and smiled again at the sight of Reith's skull. Reith was a human who wanted the werewolves and humans to be at odds with each other. Whether he hoped to profit from it or had an anarchic spirit, Asher didn't know, but whenever he saw the skull he was reminded that he'd removed a terrible person from the world.

  At least, his pets had.

  They'd stripped those bones clean. You could see tooth and claw marks on the skull.

  With the children's midnight feeding complete, Asher could retire to his apartment—right here in this building, so he was available whenever he was needed—for the night. He'd have some wine to help him sleep. His insomnia would be particularly bad tonight, because of the troubling report that Eddie Williams, he of the ridiculous comb-over, had died in a spectacularly messy fashion, along with his wife and young daughter. Apparently there was no attempt to hide that it was a werewolf attack. And apparently, as with the gory demise of Duncan Maven's family a few weeks ago, there was a message to leave George Orton alone.

  Asher knew who George was. He'd played a significant role in the recent messes Asher had to clean up.

  He understood why people would want to kill George. He did not understand why anybody would go to this length to protect him. What value did George bring? George was responsible for the death of both werewolves and gangsters, and Asher wasn't sure why either of those groups would want to keep him around.

  Asher gave the skull head scritches, then went to bed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Reunion II

  "Should I be the one to tell him or should you?" George asked.

  "You know him far better than we do," said J.P. "What do you think?"

  "I'll do it."

  The whole "possible raging insanity" thing made George nervous about telling Lou that he had not been in a coma but had instead been quite deceased. But they had to tell him about Ivan, and Lou had watched Ivan die, and they couldn't really discuss Ivan being brought back from the dead without Lou asking certain uncomfortable questions, so it was best to just tell him the truth and hope that he didn't succumb to madness.

  "Should Ally and Eugene be there with you?"

  "Nah," said George. "Lou doesn't really know them that well. He'll still relate them to a really bad part of his life—the part right before it ended. I'd like you two there to answer questions about playing God, if they come up, but nobody else."

  "That sounds like the right approach," said J.P. "Let's do it."

  They went inside Lou's room. George was shocked to see Lou not just standing, but walking across the room while Diane watched.

  "Not bad for a coma patient, huh?" asked Lou. "Want to see me dance?"

  "I didn't want to see you dance before you were in a coma." George really just wanted to hug his dear friend, but he felt it was best to quickly revert to their standard relationship dynamic of ball-busting.

  "I feel really good," said Lou, flexing his arms. "Better than I have in a long time. That's abnormal, don't you think?"

  "It's peculiar, all right."

  Lou jumped into the air a few times. "Look at this. How often do you see me jump like this?"

  "Rarely."

  "It's weird. Remember when I got my hand bit off by Ivan and we wondered if I was going to turn into a werewolf and I never did? Do you think maybe it gave me superhuman recovery powers? Seriously, George, what kind of person goes into a coma for six weeks and comes out of it feeling this good? I'm tempted to put myself into comas on a regular basis."

  "You should sit down," said George.

  "Aw, shit. What's wrong?"

  "Sit."

  Lou sat in a rolling chair that creaked under his weight. J.P. was now only the third-biggest person in the compound, with George demoted to second place.

  "You mentioned werewolves," said George. "We believe in werewolves, right? They've played a pretty important role in our lives."

  "That's right."

  "And once you believe in werewolves, well, quite a few other ridiculous ideas suddenly become plausible, right?"

  "Am I a zombie?" Lou asked.

  "No. No. Absolutely not. I mean, if you define a zombie as a person who was dead and has now come back to life, then yes, you are, but that's not the kind of zombie you're talking about. You're a...I don't know if there's a term for it. There has to be a term for it. I don't know it. But your body parts aren't going to start falling off if that's what you're worried about."

  Lou touched his neck. "I did think these scars were pretty bad. Hard to get your neck messed up like this and live."

  "It looked much worse before. So, yeah, no need to tiptoe around the issue. You died in that van with the werewolf on top of it, but now you're undead. I mean, un-dead. Not dead anymore. Not undead. Not a vampire. You know what I mean."

  "Got it."

  "You seem very calm."

  "I'm screaming on the inside."

  "So, anyway, well, I guess that pretty much covers it. I can't think of what else we'd need to discuss, unless you have any questions for me or the nice people who brought you back to life."

  "I'm sure I'll think of some."

  "We'll be here for you. Glad you're feeling so chipper, Lou. We'll be back on the road in no time. Would you like a tour of this place? You should probably get a tour." George glanced over at J.P. and Diane. "You guys are okay with me giving him a tour, right?"

  "Of course," said J.P.

  "I'll show you the kitchen, and maybe I'll whip up a delicious dessert."

  "Do I still eat dessert?"

  "Oh, yeah. You still eat and breathe and if you wanted to whack off to completion right now you could, though I hope you won't. If I hadn't told you that you were dead, you probably never would have figured it out."

  "Then why did you tell me?"

  "Why indeed," said George. "Why indeed. It's kind of a funny story, although you probably won't laugh. So you're sitting there thinking that you're the first of your kind. The first successful bringing back to life of a formerly dead person. But you're not. There's another one, and oh my goodness gracious are you ever going to be surprised when you hear who it is."

  "My mom?" asked Lou.

  "No."

  "My dog Rev?"

  "No. Rev is not a person. I said that you were going to be surprised, and you seem to be taking it in a 'good surprise' direction, and that's not quite where this is headed."

  "Hitler?"

  "Hitler is incorrect, but I lik
e that guess, because when I tell you who it is you'll say, well, at least it's not Hitler."

  "Who?"

  "Ivan."

  "Ivan the Terrible?"

  "Ivan the werewolf."

  Lou gave him an incredulous stare. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

  "I didn't do it!" George insisted. "I didn't even know they were working on you until today!"

  "Ivan is a crappy choice for somebody to bring back from the dead."

  "Yet not as bad as Hitler."

  "Hitler is more historically significant. He could give you a lot of insight. I was actually really honored that I was brought back to life, but apparently they'll just bring back any old piece of shit. Why would anybody resurrect Ivan?"

  George shrugged. "J.P.? Diane? I've done all the talking. Your turn."

  * * *

  George, Lou, J.P., and Diane walked down the corridor toward the room where Ivan was being kept.

  "You promised no drama," said J.P.

  "This is the third time you've reminded us that we promised no drama," said George.

  "I know you're both unhappy about this. I don't like the guy either."

  "We won't do anything."

  "I really don't want to have to use the tranquilizer dart."

  "We aren't going to have a fit of animalistic rage and try to rip him to pieces," George assured J.P. "We may be verbally abusive toward him. I expect that he will be verbally abusive back. There are unlikely to be any attempts to spare each other's feelings. But we aren't going to try to kill him again. Are we, Lou?"

  "No," said Lou. "Since you were nice enough to bring me back to life, the least I can do is respect your wishes."

  "I appreciate that," said J.P. They stopped in front of a metal door. "I am in charge here. If I ask you to leave, you will leave immediately and without question. Is that understood?"

  "Absolutely," said Lou.

  "There will be a red line on the floor. You are not to cross that line under any circumstances. No matter what he says or does, you are to stay on this side of the line. Is that understood?"

  "You're confusing us with people who didn't learn a harsh lesson about getting too close to him," said George. "We keep talking about delivering a beat-down, but we're actually pretty scared of the guy."

  "I'm glad to hear that," said J.P. "He'll be fully restrained and will pose no danger to us if we follow the rules. But he'll try to get you to make a mistake."

  "We know his M.O."

  "Good. Remember, you promised no drama."

  J.P. opened the door. The room was similar to Lou's—a bed surrounded by fancy machines. Nobody was in the bed at the moment.

  It was difficult to see the red line on the floor amidst all of the blood.

  A corpse lay on the floor. The body was so badly mutilated that it was difficult to tell whether it was lying face-up or face-down.

  "Shit!" said J.P., raising the tranquilizer gun. He stayed in the doorway.

  "Don't come in!" said a familiar and unwelcome voice. "I'm not decent!"

  Ivan stepped into view. He had a hostage. Tina had flirted with George a few times since he'd arrived in the compound—nothing serious, and nothing he'd acted upon—but she was definitely not her bubbly self right now. Ivan stood behind her. What little George could see of him was in his human form, except for his hand, which had its talons pressed tightly against Tina's throat.

  "Oh, hey, George. Hey, Lou. All three of you stay right where you are. I don't want you to slip on the blood and take a nasty spill."

  He looked the same as before. Early thirties. Pasty complexion. Long straight hair. Punchable face.

  "Let her go," said J.P.

  "That wouldn't be very smart of me. I don't know you, so maybe you're a master marksman, but I'm guessing that you're not good enough to hit me instead of my human shield."

  "You guessed wrong."

  "Eh. Maybe. You haven't shot yet, so I'm sticking with my theory. Also, you may think it's clever to shoot Tina here with a tranquilizer dart so that I have to drag her around, but don't do that. I'll rip her neck wide open. Don't make me do that. She seems nice."

  "What do you want?" J.P. asked.

  "I want George and Lou to kiss each other for ten full seconds. What the hell do you think I want? I want to get out of here. I'm putting you in time-out for asking a dumb question."

  "Let her go," said George, stepping forward but not walking into the room. "We were going to set you free anyway. I mean, I wasn't, but these idiots were. That's why we're here."

  "I know the whole mission, and it does not involve me being set free, but nice try. Hey, Tina, let's get your insight. Do you think everybody should get the hell out of our way, or should they keep standing around talking while I get madder and madder?"

  "If you do this, you'll never see Alex again," said J.P.

  Ivan's face contorted with rage. "You keep that name out of your disgusting mouth! Say it again and I'll scatter this bitch all over the ceiling!"

  "He won't say it again," said George. "So what's your plan? How does this all work in your favor?"

  "It can't be that difficult to understand. You step aside and let me pass. When we reach the exit, we'll work it out from there."

  George nodded. "That sounds like a more than reasonable plan."

  "Tell your boss to lower the dart gun."

  "He's not my boss, but I'll tell him that." George tapped J.P.'s shoulder. "Lower the gun."

  "He's lying."

  "I know he's lying. That's what he does. But right now he's got the advantage."

  "He won't just leave. Not without..." J.P. caught himself in time. "Not without her."

  "Then give her to him! Where is she?"

  "It's not that simple."

  "Simplify it."

  "Are you two done?" Ivan asked. "Because Tina is really scared right now and you two seem happy to just stand around gabbing away while she wonders if she's going to still be alive in a few seconds."

  "Everybody back out of the way," said George. "Ivan, tell us where you want us to be. We're not going to try anything."

  "That's very considerate of you, George."

  "He won't just leave," J.P. repeated.

  "I'd like you to stop talking," said George. "Some of us are trying to resolve this without bloodshed and you're not helping."

  "He's right, though," said Ivan. "Also, if you're trying to resolve this without bloodshed, you're a little late. There's blood all over the floor. Look at all of it. You should've seen the arterial spurting. I think he was going for a distance record."

  "And now you're not helping," said George. "Are you going to let me help you or not?"

  Ivan chuckled. "Ah, George, George, George. It's cute how you think we're going to work this out without anybody else getting hurt. If you set me free, why, I'd probably just go on another killing spree. I'm all about the killing sprees. Tina here is hot—she'd be hotter if she embraced the whole 'naughty nurse' thing, but she's pretty hot. She's not hot enough to trade for all the lives of my future victims."

  "Okay," said George. "So let's make this as straightforward as possible. What do you want us to do?"

  "Shove your thumbs up your butts, I suppose."

  "For fuck's sake, Ivan! How are you planning to end this?"

  "How do you think? Carnage."

  Ivan squeezed Tina's neck, sinking his talons in deep. He shoved her body toward the doorway as he transformed. Tina slipped on the dead person's blood and pitched forward. Ivan was completely in his wolfman form before she smashed into the tile floor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Should've Left Him Dead

  Saving Tina was not a possibility. The way blood was pumping out of her neck she'd be dead in seconds, if she wasn't already. They had to focus on Ivan.

  George and Lou were no longer the biggest guys in the compound.

  Werewolves did not turn into actual four-legged wolves. Ivan remained standing upright. George thought this was far more
unnerving for several reasons, the biggest being that Ivan could still grin.

  Ivan growled and ran toward them.

  George grabbed the door handle and yanked. He did this just as J.P. squeezed the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. The dart struck the edge of the door, bounced back, and came about an inch from hitting Lou, who'd had a previous bad experience with getting hit by a tranquilizer dart that was intended for somebody else.

  "Dammit!" J.P. shouted.

  George pulled the door almost all the way closed. Unfortunately, there was a huge difference between "almost all the way closed" and "all the way closed" and Ivan grabbed the door handle on the other side. George was strong but he wasn't werewolf-strong. The door swung back open.

  Lou shoved his way forward and grabbed the edge of the door. This left his fingers vulnerable to Ivan's claws, which was a big deal for Lou since he only had one hand. Still, two bulky thugs might be stronger than a werewolf. He and George pulled on the door as hard as they could.

  J.P. reached down to retrieve the dart.

  The door handle popped completely out of George's hands.

  Lou was tugged forward as Ivan yanked the door open. He lost his balance and fell to his knees.

  An alarm began to blare.

  Lou made use of being on the floor by diving at Ivan's legs, presumably trying to knock him over. It didn't work. Ivan lifted his hand as if getting ready to slam his talons into Lou's back. George rushed at him like a football player going for a tackle. This wasn't his first werewolf fight, and there was no time to gape in shock and terror at the monstrosity before him.

  Though Ivan didn't fall, they knocked him back a couple of steps. He got free of Lou's grip, but stumbled over Tina's dead body, then stumbled over the other dead body, and then smacked into the side of his bed.

  The werewolf took a swipe at George that came very close to removing a significant portion of his face.

  Lou got up, ready to fight, seemingly prepared to die again.